


The Phoenix

by lukas_stop



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Emotional Abuse, Gen, Gladiators, Original Character(s), Original Male Characters - Freeform, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Physical Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-18 18:54:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29738334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lukas_stop/pseuds/lukas_stop
Summary: Lev's memories are all he has left of the life he lived before.  And, with each passing battle, those memories can't save him from the inevitable.
Kudos: 1





	The Phoenix

**Author's Note:**

> Was written a bit ago for the arcana fan apprentice deck zine and I never really thought about posting it anywhere until now. It was written a little less than a year ago, so enough time has passed for me to finally share it :^)
> 
> Let me know if I should add any more tags! I wasn't quite sure what to label it with.

The gate shuttered to life, raising itself high over Lev’s head. Dust and rust drifted down like stained snowflakes. The coliseum stretched out to the sky in repeating arches, lined to the brim with Vesuvians rattling cries of mixed excitement and lust for blood. The announcer only became a touch clearer as he stepped into the center of the coliseum. 

“ _Vesuvians! Your new challenger approaches! Behold: The Phoenix!_ ”

A frenzy of roars erupted over the already riled crowd. Lev’s panicked eyes spun dizzily around his new prison; all of his thoughts became blinded by the tunnel of noise enveloping him. Among the repeating stone rows, he caught a decorated box lined with red and gold. Rich luxury was obscured by the comforting shade of the velvet curtains. Food was piled high around nobles, laughing and sharing from golden glasses, and among them a familiar blond figure shared in the wealth. 

As if to catch the piercing grey eyes with his own, his captor raised a chalice with a challenging smile. The scoff was read all too clearly: “Better you than me, right dear Levy?” 

Tearing himself from the anger building at his throat, he managed to catch the last of the opposing gate raising and the announcer’s declarations: “... _face our beloved_ _champion: The Manticore!_ ”

True to form The Manticore was a fearsome figure. Their hair was jagged, torn awkwardly at the ends that weren’t part of their unkempt braid. A large scar twisted from under their chin, scored their lip, and ended at a point just shy of their nose. The brown fur draped over their shoulder was accented by dulling spikes stained dark from many a battle. 

Lev’s fingers rippled down the handle of his blade. Only a breath of a second caught the crowd in silence, before it was taken with the thunderous battle horn. 

His opponent ran charging towards him. Lev flinched before his feet carried him forward as well. Both of their arms swung in an arc and clashed at the near center of the stadium. Lev managed the first move: pushing The Manticore’s blade back against them before releasing and swinging again. His foot pushed against the dirt the longer he pushed his blade back. 

With a sneering smile, The Manticore shoved Lev back. As he tried to reclaim his balance the swing of his opponent’s rusted sword caught the leather strapped to his chest. 

It became a game of cat and mouse: every push Lev made caused his opponent to push harder. One close swipe for every two, a drop of blood for a slash against Lev’s own body. Eventually, his body rolled against the dirt in an exhausted heap. His opponent barked in laughter, raising their weapon to the eager cries of the audience.

Lev coughed and spat at the dirt. Slowly, he pushed himself up from his stomach, wobbling as his body found the strength to at least stand partly. The small portion of the crowd that cheered for Lev went mad. He found his breath, raising the weapon back into the air while The Manticore continued to rile their supporters. 

They turned with a jeer, foreign curses rolling from their tongue as they tossed their weapon playfully in one hand. Lev forced his legs to walk. One foot at a time he picked up momentum, and as his strength returned his hands swung back with valor.

If it wasn’t for the cold already numbing Lev’s bruised knuckles, he would’ve felt the pain on impact to the invader’s face. Following him down, Lev landed a few more punches before they grew quiet. 

Lev scrambled to the woodpile outside of his family’s hut. His frantic words of concern were almost lost among the chaos of clashing spears, and cries of mixed terror and anger. 

“Myshka...” He pulled his younger brother’s hands into his own, looking him over frantically, “Are you hurt? Are you okay?” 

Nikodim, a near mirror image to what he had looked like as a child, was quaking at the blinding panic that had overtaken their tribe. He opened his mouth only to be halted by another scream from somewhere behind them.

Lev pulled his brother from his shelter against the wood, before sprinting down the path towards the forest. The stink of ash and flames stung at Lev’s heart. The cries even more so, as what was once the peace and silence of winter, became the chorus of ferocity. The Scourge of the South continued to flood the small tribe from the black pines. They smothered his people, caring only for the minuscule wealth they had created to survive the harsh winter. 

They stumbled blindly out of camp. He only focused on the pine trees before him and the reassurance of the small hand in his own. _If I can save one thing from the_ _Scourge, it is this._

Lev shoved his brother into the snowbank. He tossed his battle-torn pelt overtop of him, trying to tuck his brother farther against the underbrush and snow. Nikodim tried pushing himself up but Lev shoved him back down harshly, “Do not move. Pretend you are dead.” 

Two teary seafoam eyes looked back to him in confusion. “Levushka what about-”

He spoke over the younger’s pleas, “Do not look up until it is quiet. Take small breaths, save your warmth. Come look for me when it is over.” 

Numb hands stroked his brother’s hair in comfort as Nikodim protested. What about their parents? Their sisters? Their friends? The words are cut short by Lev’s repeated asks of promise: 

“Okay Myshka?”

“Levushka-”

“Do not move, do you understand me?”

“I can help!”

“Okay?”

“What about you?”

“ _Okay_ , Nikodim?”

Nikodim swallowed his tears with a hesitant nod, “Okay.” 

Lev pulled himself to his feet, forcing his eyes away from his brother. His boots kicked up the snow, pushing him forward, and back towards the heart of the camp. Fury grew in his throat as he forced himself back into what was becoming the torn remains of his home. With a valiant cry, he swung his spear.

His staff fractured against the metal’s blow. His attacker struck again, snapping the remains of the staff in jagged equals. The sword continued its arc just short of Lev’s chest. 

Lev stumbled backward. The Fox, the smaller of his two opponents, lost balance. They loosened their grip on Lev’s neck as they dragged them both down. Lev fell on top of them, freeing himself fully. He rolled quickly off, and just as soon pushed off into a sprint towards a sword fallen not far from him.

He barely caught the handle as a dagger scraped past his arm. A small cloud of dust skidded upward as Lev turned to face the pair. The duo reattempted their attack; they recreated their formation: one taking Lev’s front and the other his back.

Even for a third attempt, the setup was the same: The Fox would attempt to distract Lev. The Coyote, the larger of the duo, would then come from the front to corner him. Lev manages to avoid The Fox but as he dodges The Coyote, he falters. 

The Fox scrambled to become a counterweight to Lev’s balance by pulling at the leather straps on his body. Lev twisted, elbowing them across the head and freeing himself temporarily as another attack made him falter. They grabbed at him again as the decorative claws on their hands scored into the Phoenix’s flesh. The Coyote began their charge: sword reared back in preparation. 

Blindly Lev managed to throw himself off as The Coyote swung their sword. Lev escaped as the blade cut with unlucky accuracy. The crowd’s cheers filled the remainder of the moment as the remaining fighters processed the action. The Fox tried to stand.

Then, limply, they fell back down to the earth defeated.

“You...” The attacker’s arms shook with disgust. Lips curled almost in a snarl, they screamed “YOU BASTARD! I’LL KILL YOU!” 

The strength in their weapon increased as they flailed it with vengeful fury. Lev led the attacker back, managing to block only a few of the blows with his gauntlets. 

He took the brunt of the fall as The Coyote tackled him, sword whipping against the leather and skin on his back. They punched him in the jaw before Lev pushed off against the dirt and metal. 

The moment of distraction is all he needed. Sword at reach, The Phoenix raised the weapon and tore it over his opponent. 

“ _People of Vesuvia, your Phoenix is the victor once more!_ ” The victory is hollow and numbing as the ringing in Lev’s ears. The sun pressed into his shoulders, dragging the sweat from his pores and forcing his body down into the dirt. Yet the crowd continued to cheer, the hands that pulled Lev back upright continue to be as forceful as before. Even in the panting, desperate breaths for air, Lev can’t find his strength. 

For as close as freedom was, for as fresh as it still felt in his mind, it was only a reminder of how much he missed it. While the remaining mercenaries celebrated their plunderings over the roaring flame, Lev rested quietly in the dark of the forest just shy from the camp’s edge. His fingers lightly traced over the drying moss under him. It would have been a lovely night. Without the sound of the fire crackling or the drunken laughter from his colleagues, the forest could have sung its sweet songs to him under the starry sky. 

Busy footsteps stirred him from his thoughts. Simon, waving curiously to him, joined him at his perch. “Lev, do you have a moment?”

Lev responded with a familiar annoyed look. 

“Good, you’re not busy then.” This stranger was among the few Lev managed to tolerate. Though boisterous, the playful smile and at least hints of mercy in his basil eyes found their way past the wall he had built over the past three years. 

“So...” his acquaintance rounded the word, and his legs bounced against the stone as he dropped down next to Lev, “What has got you looking so down on this lovely evening.” 

The overly cheery tone was gag worthy. Lev complained, “I feel like dog...on leash.” 

“Don’t we all with the new boss,” Simon agreed with a breath of a laugh, “He’s got us tighter than Nathaniel ever did, but at least he pays well.” Lev scoffed as Simon responded curiously, “What? Do you expect more from him?”

“What good is coin?” Lev began his rant, “Coin cannot make fire in heart of forest. Cannot feed stomach that has no food for weeks.”

“But it’s coins that pay for the firewood and meat.”

“Or you can chop wood and hunt food like normal person.”

Simon paused with a subtle sigh, “Hm... Can’t beat you there.” 

It sounded as though someone had found an instrument, else the attempted singing to drunken tunes was enough to create the illusion of a melody. A smirk touched Simon's face. “I take it the weapons Lucio gives us, or even the beds to sleep in, aren’t any good then? You’d prefer some wilderness survival with pine needles for a pillow?”

Lev looked a touch offended at the comment. Anything was more comforting to sleep in than to be surrounded by murderers every night. He responded with a blunt “Yes” before returning to poke at an infant tree beginning to creep through a rock crack.

“Look,” Simon huffed, politely phrasing his words as he continued, “I’m not saying that you didn’t have these things before, well, what happened in the Scourgelands, but Lev, at least here we have all our worries taken care of.” 

“Why don’t you let yourself out of that shell a little bit, hm?”

Lev clenched his jaw. Simon sounded just like the rest of them. Always kissing the feet of those who have the most wealth. 

Some laughter echoed into the woods as another tune rang out in the group. “Tell you what Mr. I-Love-Nature-” He leaned forward, reaching a hand under his shirt. “- why not join me in town tomorrow? I’ll get you whatever you want, no strings attached.

We can get you some of those weird smelling herbal teas or whatever.”

Simon continued with a shrug, “Hell, if you want to ride somewhere, we can go scout for bounties. There’s got to be someone out there who deserves a lil’ punishment. Else, just go for a ride in the plains.” He pulled out a small string pouch and held it up between them. “What do you say?” 

The pouch seemed to weigh heavier the more Lev looked at it. His heart felt the weight of all the blood that was shed to fill the velvet red cloth before him. How many faces of terror would there be reflected in those tiny golden coins? What would he even do with such frivolous pieces of metal? Drink himself to sleep like the rest of the mercenaries? Decorate himself with fancy pelts some hunter mistreated and sold for a quick price? What good would any of that be? 

An idea whispered in his mind: _maybe he could buy a horse and ride it south? Or_ p _erhaps he could catch a ride on a trader’s cart and ride across the planes through the_ _dense, sacred forest?_ He could maybe even hold onto the money, buy his freedom later. Else, buy freedom to the others who have also fallen into the same trap as him. How horribly he missed the feel of the snow under his feet. How much he missed the warm smiles and old playful legends passed down from generations that had become a second language to him. How much he missed the little things: the partly frozen honey in winter, the whistles echoing in the pines between his people and the birds, the intricate wood carvings on his fireplace in their humble hut...The chance to leave rested in the blood money Simon was offering him. Its success, however, rested on the silent prayer that had never been answered before. Just once he wished he could have at least one more day of freedom. _Perhaps as long as he had something to wager, he would still have_ _that chance_.

Lev exhaled slowly. Hesitantly, he reached out and took the pouch.

“That’s a good man,” Simon smiled, his hand reaching to Lev’s shoulder for a comforting pat.

The large axe scored Lev’s shoulder. His decorative metal splintered and shattered at the sudden weight pressed against it.

_How many more fights?_

Lev’s eyes caught the ornate box carved into the lip of the coliseum seats. His blond captor smiled, laughing in amusement while another blow knocked the wind from Lev’s lungs. Now this man was surrounded by the wealth he had stolen and wrongfully claimed. The soft white clothing striking against his aging, twisted smile while the other nobility shared in the joy. Everything was sealed gingerly away by the comforting shade of luxury separating them from the outside world. 

Lev scrambled to catch his footing. The mountain of a figure cast a long shadow on the tainted dirt. While he moved slower, his axe swung with deadly force. Each swing became increasingly closer to Lev’s limbs. Occasionally it’d catch a piece of leather or the tip of his skin as his arms or legs readjusted. Another strike tore across his side.

_How much more pain?_

He frantically found footing again, only to jump to the side as he missed another swing. As he landed he stumbled. The beastly Scourge finally caught up to him on the upswing, tearing fiercely up his leg. Lev winced through gritted teeth and fell chest first into the dirt. 

The Phoenix clawed at the earth, desperately pushing himself closer to his lost weapon. Vesuvians sat at the edge of his seat, waiting in anticipation as The Scourge of the South steps closer. Each step became a pounding heartbeat in Lev’s ears, and each speck of dirt that wedged in his nails reminded him of the cold shadow looming over him. 

Lev stole a glance back at his attacker and froze. A few forced breaths pushed out of his crushed chest. His eyes focused on the silhouette in front of the halo of sunlight, bringing his appearance into view.

In that moment Lev only saw himself.

He saw the weight of the world pulling at a man’s eyes, the unkempt hair acting as a silent symbol of grief, the clenching of his jaw, the gulp as his eyes narrowed in contemplation, the quiver in his arms as he pulled the axe back.

He saw a scared man. He saw a man forced into a world he didn’t belong to. He saw a man just wanting to go home. Yet there was no home to return to, not for either of them. Not for any of them really, there was nothing left now. 

“ _That money was all I had!_ ” 

Disgusting tears poured from their eyes as his victim pleaded for their life. Their

body shivering, hands tugging at Lev’s sleeve as they cried out again, “ _Please sir just more time! I’ll get it back! Please I swear-_ ”

The terror in their eyes pierced into Lev’s own. He read every thought of theirs like it was his. They were about to die. They were about to die poor, with nothing to their name but the clothes on the back, with nothing but this memory, and the tiny reputation they have now created as a petty thief.

They whimpered through sobs and repeated pleas for mercy. Lev’s dagger pressed to their neck tight enough to feel the rapid pulse along the flat part of the blade. One small push would be all it took. He was all that stood between this stranger’s life and their death.

“How much?” 

It took them a moment to process the question. They hiccupped, opened their teary eyes and stared bewilderedly at him. A whisper escaped their throat: “P-pardon?”

“How much is this debt worth?” 

Their face flickered between relaxation and tension. Quietly they answer: “A hundred. I owe a hundred.”

The dagger slowly lowered from their throat. Lev spat as an expression of disgust and disbelief melted onto his face. His hands lowered the poor figure back down to the ground. Lev’s voice was surprisingly soft as he continued, “Do you have any of this coin with you?”

Frantically they shook their head, “I swear sir it’s all gone.”

He moved to sheave the dagger. His knuckles struck the small velvet pouch wrapped around his belt, reminding him of his old friend. He wasn’t able to use the ticket to freedom Simon had given him, so he kept it. He wasn’t able to show his friend the life he used to live, so he promised one day he would show someone else.

Slowly his hand began to unravel the pull string. “What...what you need this coin for?”

“Medicine sir...my brother and his child, they’ve caught some disease. Their eyes are red, their limbs are numb, all of my food has gone to them and- and I just-”

Lev hushed them by shoving the bag of coins in their face. Admittedly he felt regret already pouring into his bones. Without the coins, he would have nothing. He’d be trapped again until someone would be kind enough to help him. Even then the peace of comfort, of that sensation of temporary freedom wouldn’t last as much as these coins had. 

The stranger’s lips quivered. Warm tears began to puddle around the tips of their eyelids. “S-sir I couldn’t! I can’t!” 

_Take the coins back!_ his mind screamed at him, _You're no better than dead without them!_ Lev pulled on their hand gently, lowering the pouch into their open palm.

“Is not much, but it will help.” 

For the first time in months, the smile on his face was genuine. They hiccupped, clutching the pouch against their heart with tears of gratitude raining off of their face.

He took them in his arms and offered what was left of the comfort he could give, “Everything will be okay.”

Lev’s head turned back to the dirt. His wounds became anchors; his limbs melting deeper into the dry ground. Each breath lasted a century, croaking and weak in the shade of his executioner. 

The Phoenix rested his face down in his soiled bed. His lips curled into a soft smile. _Do what you need to_ , he said silently, neither _of us should have been here._ The weary teal eyes closed. While Lev’s body tensed, he found a moment to breathe, and brace for the fall. A breath, of which, was shared between the duo: silent while praying for the other to rest easily afterwards. 

_Everything will be okay._


End file.
